


Hiding for Life

by Barid (Finale)



Series: The Fourth Age [2]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: F/M, UAF Secret Santa 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8954830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finale/pseuds/Barid
Summary: Any woman born with the spark in Seanchan it be made a marath'damane, even if they are the Empress's daughter.(UAF Secret Santa gift for highladyluck over on tumblr)





	

“Bridget is missing,” Fortuona says coolly from behind Mat. “She vanished from her rooms earlier today, and her horse is missing from the stables.”

            “Oh? Maybe she just decided to go on a ride alone,” Mat says, biting back a wince as he realizes he said that too casually.

            “Hmmm,” she hums. “Or maybe it’s because one of the _damane_ claimed they felt her channel and said it where she could hear.” 

            “Oh?” Mat asks, voice a bit faint, but he finally turns to face her.

            “Yes. And now it seems, rather than submit to being collared, she’s run,” his wife says, expression more controlled than an Aes Sedai. “She has violated one of the most basic laws of the Empire.”

            _All marath’damane are to be collared immediately._  

            “According to your agreement with the White Tower, anyone who can channel may choose between submitting to the collar or going to there,” Mat points out.

            “Bridget is not anyone. She had been the Daughter of the Nine Moons,” Fortuona says, eyes narrowing at him. “Now she is a traitor.”

            Mat closes his eyes. He knows he should have expected this. Fortuona would never accept any of their children channeling. Light, he’s just happy Bridget had managed to slip away. He can’t…he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing his daughter in an _a’dam_. He couldn’t.

            “When she is found, she will be collared,” Fortuona says, eyes like ice. “And if I discover you gave assistance to her to leave, Knotai, I will make you _da’covale_.”

                                                            ***********

            Fortuona controls her expression as the Aes Sedai delegation steps into the room. Too many already were within, due to how many thrones had Aes Sedai queens. Elayne Trakand of Andor and Cairhein, el’Nynaeve ti al’Meara Mandragoran of Malkier…rumors placed at least a heir of Saldea as a novice in the White Tower and she knows both Queen Elayne’s children could channel.

            Darbina’s three could.

            Her eyes flicker over each face. None dark enough to be ~~her daughter~~ the traitor. None of her Listeners in the Tower had ever seen the girl. A few Sharans, some other traitors to the Empire, but never the one she held interest in. It’s as if that day she ran away she simply vanished. 

            She glances to where Knotai is chatting with King Perrin of Saldaea and a dark haired man long rumored (and most likely truly) a somehow reborn Rand al’Thor. With the level of ease the trio demonstrated, and the fact she’d never seen the man until three years after the Last Battle, she thinks the rumors are true. 

            Her eyes return to the entrance as the Sea Folk are announced and she barely controls the shock she feels from appearing on her face. Much like how the Aes Sedai delegation included two Accepted, and she’d spied two Aiel Wise One apprentices, so too did the Sea Folk Windfinder’s bring two. One that she recognizes. 

            Bridget had never gone to the White Tower. She had gone to the Sea Folk. 

            _Wise,_ Fotuona thinks. The possibility had never even occurred to her. _She must have tried to use the Sea Folk to get to the White Tower, but then decided to stay amongst them instead_ , she further muses, eyes following her once-child.

            Bridget’s hair is shorn short, almost reminding her of how her’s looked when traveling with the menagerie. Tattoos cover her hands, a story of what she’s done among the Sea Folk and marking what clan she’d been adopted into. She is wearing brocaded red silk, and interesting enough a ring. _Perhaps she had been one of the apprentices that did a year at the White Tower?_ she muses. Supposedly they were given a ring to show they’d been there. 

            Fortuona sees out of the corner of her eye Knotai almost drop his glass of wine, grimacing as it splashed onto his wrist. He doesn’t look surprised at the sight of Bridget, and she has to bite back a quiet growl. He’d known the entire time where she’d been! Obviously though, he hadn’t expected her to be one of the Sea Folk representatives.

            “Light,” Selucia breathes, her Voice’s shock evident. “How…”

            “ _We didn’t think she’d go to them_ ,” Fortuona gestures. _“The White Tower made more sense. It is, after all, where the agreement is.”_

Would it be possible to bargain with the Sea Folk for Bridget’s return to Seanchan? _Unlikely_ , she acknowledges to herself. _Not with her obviously being trained as an apprentice, and her being here shows they have pride in her._

“Do not,” Darbina growls, startling her. She hadn’t realized her Truthspeaker is next to her again. She had been speaking with Queen Elayne and the Aiel Wise One Aviendha, the third mother of the Dragon Reborn’s children (quadruplets! And she’d thought Darbina’s triplets to be impressive).

            “Do not what?” Fortuona asks, giving Darbina a cool look.

            She gives her a flat look in response. “Do not attempt to get your hands on Bridget. Do not attempt to have her assassinated here. That will cause a riot, and you and I are both well aware they’d figure out immediately who ordered it. It’ll cause issue with the Sea Folk and both Towers, and maybe the Aiel.”

            “Both Towers?” Fortuona asks, blinking at Darbina. Why would the Black Tower care? 

            “Both,” she repeats, gesturing at where Bridget is standing.

            A young Dedicated is standing with Bridget, and she’s smiling shyly up at him. The look on his face could best be enraptured. Oddly enough, along with his silver sword marking him as a Dedicated, he wore a second pin, one that looked almost like a sigil of some sort. _Yes_ , she thinks, straining her eyes slightly, seeing its three gold crowns on a field of blue. _Definitely a sigil. So a noble born Dedicated?_

“Who is that?” Selucia asks, frowning slightly.

            “Nolan Ablar, the heir of Logain Ablar,” Darbina says. “From what Tamlin told me, a Dedicated on the verge of taking his test for Asha’man. Evidentially he has been courting Bridget for two years.”

            “How do you know what?” Fortuona asks, narrowing her eyes at her Truthspeaker 

            “Tamlin is at the Black Tower and knows Nolan. He’s written about how funny it is to watch Nolan moon over Bridget din Sakura. At the time I didn’t know who exactly he’d been referring to but…,” Darbina shrugs, gesturing slightly. “It isn’t too hard to guess.”

            Fortuona studies the Windfinder apprentice for the rest of the night when possible. The young woman never looks at the Seanchan delegation. Instead, she chats with Dedicated, Accepted, and Wise One apprentices. She dances with Dedicate Ablar, Prince Gawyn of Andor and Cairhein, and Prince Caddoc of Saldaea. She speaks with nobility from Arad Doman, Malkier, and Tear. She even thinks she spotted Knotai and the girl speaking briefly.

            But the entire time she refuses to acknowledge the Seanchan presence. Refuses to acknowledge her, as if the Empire doesn’t matter. That as ~~her mother~~ , as Empress, she doesn’t matter.

            _You don’t though_ , whispers a little voice in her. _You aren’t her mother any more, you struck her name from the family records. Made the name ‘Bridget’ taboo. Why should she acknowledge you? She uses a new name, Bridget din Sakura. You aren’t her mother anymore._

_You can’t be the mother of a traitor to the Empire._


End file.
